Remember the Hawkins
by WritingAmant
Summary: Mallory is a runaway from Florida, trying to figure out the direction of her life one stumble at a time. Tyler Hawkins is barely a college student at NYU trying to figure out everything else. Remember Me/Welcome to the Riley's crossover. Tyler/Mallory


**A/N: I watched a video on youtube of Tyler/Mallory and got an idea to mix their stories together. This is a small chapter. They will get larger, but first I wanted to see what people thought of the pairing. Tyler, from "Remember Me" obviously and Mallory/Allison from "Welcome to the Rileys". I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

I could feel the hard metal beneath my fingers and around my legs while I swung myself across the pole.

"Shit,"

I muttered, when my stiletto slid across the surface causing me to stagger forward making my movement less graceful. But somehow no one seemed to notice, I could still hear the chants from the crowd while beer bottles clinked against each other and loud music boomed out of the speakers. I scanned the room intently, Tara had already spotted some prey on the other side of the bar and I watched while she shifted on to her knees blowing hot air into the more than willing gentleman's lower half. The excitement was clearly written all over his face while she laced her fingers with his and lead him up the winding staircase into one of the private rooms. I lifted my hand over my forehead to remove the glare of the lights from my vision, gazing around the bar slowly. It was my turn now and it was a busy night. There had to be someone willing to have some fun. Quickly, my fingers unwrapped themselves from around the pole and I swayed over to the young gentlemen I had spotted sitting at the bar, chugging back a beer quietly. I was surprised when I got closer, he looked close to my age, early twenties perhaps. His clothes were slightly dirty, his hair stood greasy and tangled on top of his head, while he concentrated hard on what he was writing, muttering the words he wrote under his breath. Although they were unclear to me. The heel of my stiletto tapped next to his notebook, between his beer to get his attention. Instantly, he shifted his gaze looking up in my direction. I resisted the urge to gasp when his eyes met mine, he was more attractive than I thought. I fought to remain in character.

"Hey, how are you doin' tonight?" He squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at me.

"Pretty good," His tone sounded confused. His voice was husky, yet soft, something attractive about the way he slurred the two simple words sent a jolt throughout my spine. "How bout you?" This was my opportunity. I bit my lip and lowered myself on to my knees, making a point to show a little skin on the way down. I removed the beer bottle and placed it behind me, sliding his notepad a little to the right while I spread my legs out in front of him.

"Oh, I'm _real_ good." I said in a seductive tone.

He leaned his body to the right, then to the left, as if to search for his beer bottle or to find a reason to make an escape. He looked uncomfortable. I slid the cigarette out from in between his lips and placed it in between my own, tilting my head innocently. "You want a private lap dance in the V.I.P. Room?" He glanced in between my legs and swallowed thickly, shaking his head. "Uh, no, not right now." I kicked my leg over his head to the right and shifted my position, pulling my legs together. "Not right now?" I tried my best to sound disappointed, seductive, and surprised all at the same time. I was relieved when I had accomplished it.

"C'mon," I continued.

"It's only two-fifty, you get a bottle of wine and me for an hour."

He sighed defeated, leaning further back avoiding my direction and staring off into the men's bathroom. "I don't like wine." I tugged my lip away from my teeth, remaining persistent. "I do." His eyes caught mine again for a brief moment before the front entrance swung opened and a group obnoxious college guys bounded in. One of them pointed in our direction. "Tyler! Hey, look, it's Tyler!" he said, keeping his finger extended out to us. Tyler backed out from his spot on the stool, he didn't look in their direction. Instead, his almost panicked features told me he was looking for the nearest exit.

"You want the room?" I asked again, more confident now. He nodded.

My fingers wrapped around his neck and I brought myself down on to the ground from my position on the bar, twining his fingers with mine as I lead him up the narrow winding staircase into the second private room. I turned on the balls of my feet, my palm pressed against his chest. "We have to wait for the drinks." I leaned in further.

"Then we can have some fun."

He chugged down the rest of the liquid in his beer bottle and set it on the table next to the door, nodding in response. Jenna strut through the backdoor with a bottle of wine and two glasses, setting them on the table removing Tyler's beer and setting it on the trey. He looked dumbfounded and pulled a twenty out of his wallet handing it to her casually."Y'all have fun now..." Jenna said, making a point to wink at Tyler when she took the money before pushing herself back through the swinging door. I placed my fingers on his shirt, tracing a few patterns. I dropped to my knees, running my fingers over his belt. "I get half of what you gave her," I said. "Don't I get a little something more?" He fumbled for his wallet and pulled out two twenties, handing them down to me. I grinned.

"Wow. Thanks, Tyler."

When he didn't seem to like the idea of me going down on him, I pushed back up on to my feet. "Come here..." I encouraged, pressing my lips to his neck. "It's okay, come on." I whispered soothingly, pushing him down on to a chair in the corner shifting my weight on top of his until my legs straddled his waist, kissing his neck slowly. He shifted uncomfortably, then I felt his big hands wrap around my small almost bare waist. "No, uh," He grunted when he lifted my weight off of his and set me on a coffee table across from him. "Sorry." Tyler apologized while he straightened his flannel shirt. My forehead creased automatically. "Don't you want to have any fun?" Now I was the one dumbfounded. I leaned back on my forearms. He didn't want to fool around? Nothing? My mouth shaped into an "O" as I waited for his response. He smiled this time, almost resisting a laugh. "No," he chuckled. "how about we just talk?" I stayed silent.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Twenty-one."

"You don't look twenty-one."

"How old do I look?"

"Teens."

I scoffed at his response. "I've never seen any teenager working in these parts before in my life." Tyler ran his hand over his eyes. I shook my head and returned the question. "How old are _you?_" He blinked. "Almost twenty-two." I sighed. "You don't look twenty-one either." He looked older now that I could get a good look at his unique and striking features. I looked over to my left briefly before my eyes scanned over him again. That's when I noticed he was still carrying a small journal. I sat up further and removed it from his loose grasp. "What's this?" I said, opening up to the first few pages, scanning his handwriting. "It's nothing." He panicked, leaning forward to take it from me. I pushed myself further away on my heels to spare a second. That's when I saw the word "cop" in one of his sentences. _Oh shit. _My eyes flickered to the cut on his forehead and his suspicious facial expression. "You're a cop! I knew it." His eyes widened. "A cop?" He flinched when I stood. "I'm not a cop!" I shifted in my spot and dropped the journal on to his chest. I took the twenties out from the bindings in my bra, tossing them over. "Yeah sure. Take that back! I'm not gonna be your play toy just so you can try to turn me in, in the morning." I scowled, ripping through the beads hanging at the door and swaying down the steps, my heartbeat thudded loudly in panic and I unlaced my stilettos from my feet.

"Bad night?" Jenna asked, pulling a few dollars out of her g-string.

"Yeah," I sighed.

She smiled soothingly and moved to run her hands over my bare shoulders. "Don't worry, babydoll." she coaxed. "It gets better." I ran my hand up to meet hers and half-smiled. "Thanks, Jen." I moved forward casually, allowing her to drop her grasp off my shoulders. "I guess I'm off for tonight." I declared. "I'll see you tomorrow." Jenna smiled, handing over my things from the corner in the room. I pulled a green sweatshirt over my body and tugged my baggy jeans over my hips, tightening the buckle. I could still feel my heart pound against my chest in panic. It was the worst feeling you could ever imagine in the pit of your stomach. A twinge of guilt, anger, fear, and panic all wrapped into one frightening emotion. But don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm a stranger to this or anything. It was apart of my job. Being paranoid, feeling guilty, always afraid of being caught, only to get a good meal and maybe a better pair of jeans. It was times like these where I questioned if it was even worth it, if all I was going to get was a saggy pair of boy jeans and a meatball sandwich every night. I'd rather go hungry on the side of the street with a nice pot smoking hobo. At least I would die happy.


End file.
